


I look him in the eyes, but all he tells me is lies

by terrifyingcandy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Angst, Mistakes, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrifyingcandy/pseuds/terrifyingcandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the publication of the Reynolds pamphlet, what Alexander feels when Eliza finds out and whether he re-evaluates his priorities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I look him in the eyes, but all he tells me is lies

Eliza was still shut in their room, taking meals up with her, leaving him in the study sleeping at his desk slumped in piles of papers. Her distance and reserve were completely deserved but Alexander couldn’t help but remember all the times he had been shut in the very same study he was now relegated to, writing till the early hours of morning. Except back then, when he stole back to their room he would find Eliza waiting for him, warm and inviting. Then he thought about what he’d done, something his mind had skipped back to so many times in the past weeks that all it left was echoes of the original shame, a bad aftertaste he couldn’t shake. All the possible scenarios he wished had happened where exhausted, what ifs were as pointless as apologies. Careless of the consequences, he had thrown himself into this in a headlong rush and lost everything he’d fought for. It was moments like these he wished there was still a war. Fighting for his country was all he wanted, but now he didn’t know what he was fighting against. 

A moment of weakness had paved the way for his fall, and he had been with Maria Reynolds, for over two years. Even after he had been threatened, even after he started paying her husband to protect his reputation, he still lacked the strength to stop. She had looked so beautiful, standing on his doorstep, hair in disarray, hands nervously gripping her dress with tears in her eyes. When James Reynolds wrote to him, he’d gone to confront her and he’d been so angry, but when she cried and begged him to stay, she looked so beautiful and so broken. So he had. Sneaking around behind his wife’s back, accused of corruption and now, publicly known as an adulterer. All because he felt like he could put her back together again, because he was too weak to say no. 

“Alexander.” The voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Eliza!" 

“I want to give you a chance to explain." 

"You know how sorry I am. There's nothing I can do to change this. What do you want me to say?" 

“What I want to know is why you found it so difficult to tell me what you’d done before you let this ruin our lives, before you published our shame to the whole country. Was that too much to ask?" 

“I needed to preserve our name. I did it for us! I didn’t want to worry you. I never meant to. She was a mistake-" 

“A mistake that lasted for three years? A mistake you took to our own house? Our own bed? A mistake you paid more than $1000 for? You go on about your precious legacy and your good name but what’s the use? It’s something you’ll never get to see. I’m tired, Alexander. You should have told me.” She sounded exhausted. 

“Please just understand. I never wanted this to happen." 

“What you want doesn’t change anything.” Eliza’s voice never went above a conversational tone. It felt as if he wasn’t even worth her anger. 

She was walking away from him, hand already on the door knob when she turned back and said what finally broke him. 

"What you did with Maria, I could have forgiven. The money you gave her husband to stop me from finding out, I could have forgiven. This going on for three years and probably longer if Monroe and that horrid Callender hadn’t found out, I could eventually have forgiven. The moment you decided to put your reputation before your family, when you decided that the public deserved your honesty more than I did, you went past the point of forgiveness. I thought what we had would last until we died, but that wasn't long enough for you. You and your legacy have nothing to do with me now." 

Hamilton went back to his desk. His drafts of the “Observations on Certain Documents” were all there. For the first time since he wrote them, he wished he hadn’t written it. Eliza was right, as she always was. What was the point of worrying over how future citizens would see him and his reputation when his own happiness and family were slipping right out of his grasp? Was it really worth it? Even as his own wife gave up on him, he still grieved the loss of his potential presidency. Hamilton knew it was wrong, knew which he should want more, knew there was something wrong with him. Lunging forwards, he gripped his papers and began tearing them apart. Mid-motion, he knocked into the inkwell and the quills lined neatly across his desk, knocking it over and leaving the ink seeping into his prized essays and the well-crafted wood of the table-top. The fire crackling in the corner caught his eye and gathering as many scraps as he could, he threw them all towards it. They caught in the air and floated lazily down and spirals, none so much as touching the grate. 

A dry, hacking laugh burst out of him. Even this gesture became useless and impotent in his hands. What was the use of striving for greatness as an orphan immigrant from the Caribbean if at the end, he lost sight of what was most important? All those nights writing at that very desk, never stopping, only wanting to build up more of his legacy. All those arguments with Jefferson, Madison and even Burr. All those times he had fought for a country where they could all be free. His family had always come last, and only as he lost them had he realised how important they were. Without Eliza, bringing tea and running the house, he wouldn’t even have time for any papers. Without Eliza as a voice of reason, he would have died in the war or been shot in a duel before he had even become Secretary of State. Without Eliza, freedom was meaningless. Sitting at his desk, all Alexander could do was remember and regret.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for a class assignment on historical figures.


End file.
